


Perfection's Fragility

by Gixxer_Pilot



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Character Study, Drama, Gen, Introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-11
Updated: 2011-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-15 21:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/531645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gixxer_Pilot/pseuds/Gixxer_Pilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the immediate aftermath of the Narada, Captain Pike discovers that it's okay to be human and not Superman. At the same time, he learns it's amazing how honest people are when they think no one's listening.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 7 October 2012 Author's Notes
> 
> I'm not an angst writer by the slightest bit. I am the first person to admit it and this fic really tested me. I think I learned a lot from it, both then and now. I look back at it now and I find it excessively drawn out and a bit dragging, but the spirit of the story and some of the images still make me happy. Hopefully someone out there gets some enjoyment from it, too.

**Title** : Perfection's Fragility

**Author** : Gixxer Pilot

**Summary** : In the immediate aftermath of the Narada, Captain Pike discovers that it's okay to be human and not Superman. At the same time, he learns it's amazing how honest people are when they think no one's listening.

**Author's Notes** : Because my Pike!muse is nothing but a shameless attention whore, this story grew into something way larger than originally anticipated. It was supposed to be a 1,000 word ditty based off a prompt from trek_hc on Livejournal for the duality of 'broken bones' but it didn't end up qualifying for the challenge because it's both (surprise, surprise) too long and way too late. I guess my muses wanted to break both McCoy and Pike, so there you are. Please accept my apologies for any typos you may find, because I'm sure I've missed something. What can I say? I'm a crap proofreader of my own work. Feedback is loved, but not required. If you dig it, that's enough for me.

**Disclaimer** : Sadly, Star Trek is not mine. I own only this plot. *sighs*

* * *

For the fiftieth time that morning, Chris Pike wondered if he'd made a mistake.

It was a foreign feeling. Second guessing himself was not part of his nature. Though he was not stupid enough to call himself infallible, he knew he was very, very good at his work. First and foremost, Pike was a captain long before he'd ever been a recruiter. Decisions came easily to him; he rarely, if ever, struggled with the constant barrage of self-doubt he knew inhabited the minds of some of his subordinates. He was the proverbial rock, a trait that harked back to the time when he was still nothing but a young, hotshot lieutenant. Chris had always been the calming voice of reason, the one others looked to in a crisis. He was sharp and he was crisp and he was _sure_ , up until the moment he met Nero.

And then it all went to hell.

It wasn't as if he was naïve to the dangers facing him when he left the relative safety of his ship. To the contrary, Pike flew over to the _Narada_ with the expectation that he'd just stamped his one-way ticket to the pearly gates. The Enterprise was not supposed to be a return option, nor did he want his crew risk the ship by making an attempt. Pike was supposed to do the captain-ly, honorable thing and take care of business himself. He knew a few thousand souls on board his ship, the one he'd fought long and hard to skipper, was worth more than his one, pathetic life signature on an alien vessel. It was shitty, but it was also part of the job.

While he may have exuded the stoic, calm demeanor of a leader in the interim before he headed over to Nero's ship, inside, Chris was anything but. When he initiated the start up sequence for the shuttle, his mind was mess of jumbled thoughts, racing through the thousands of 'what if' scenarios like a battle simulator. But this time, what he was about to do wasn't an exercise, and there was no reset button. It might become an Academy lesson that could be taught to the mass of students, but it wouldn't be one from which Chris would see any personal benefit.

Though his words had been to the contrary, Pike prayed that Spock would do the logical thing. God help him, he _hoped_ the ship would leave him behind in favor of a rendezvous with the remainder of the fleet. Chris' goal was to buy the Enterprise time to get away and report back to the command what they knew. If he managed to take Nero out before he died, it would simply be a bonus. It was a plan born of desperation and last options, but it was the only one he had. He made his peace with his choice and Pike was honestly prepared for whatever waited for him when he stepped off the shuttle.

But he miscalculated, and he did so in epic fashion. Nothing he strategically assumed stayed constant. Any logical plans Chris might have dreamt up disintegrated into a neat little cloud of smoke the moment his boots hit the floor. Not only was he wrong on his adversary's intentions, Pike's estimations completely missed the mark on Nero's level of madness. The Romulan was a wild card, completely untrained, unpredictable, and blinded by his lust for revenge. Whatever conventional methods Pike might have known about tactics and diversion he quickly decided could be tossed right out the nearest airlock. None of it did him any good. And when he finally realized his adversary wasn't after a high value military hostage, his brain stem had already made acquaintances with that damned Centarean slug. It was too little, too late.

He didn't have a ton of recollection of the return trip back to the Enterprise, but there were two constants in nearly all the memories he had: Kirk and McCoy. Pike's awareness was limited, but he did recall intense pain, leaning over Jim's arm, fear, more intense pain, and the floating of beam-out, which culminated in meeting McCoy and Chapel in the transporter room. He vaguely recalled Dr. McCoy calling out to Jim and Kirk returning the greeting. If he had the energy in that moment, Chris may have jumped for joy. Instead, he managed only a grimace as his legs buckled under his own weight. If not for McCoy and Kirk, Pike thought he'd have ended up sprawled gracelessly on the transporter room floor.

After that, the rest was fuzzy, interspersed with short blasts of color or sound. He felt the softness from the mattress of the anti-grav gurney and the crispness of the sheets. He recalled bits and pieces of McCoy's voice, for once soft and comforting. Muted snippets of sound swirled above his head. Some of their conversations were directed at him, others were not. He couldn't keep up with the medical jargon, but he latched on to the soothing tones and reassuring words. Chris remembered the friendly face of Christine Chapel, her warm hands placing a mask over his nose and mouth, and then he felt like he was floating. The last thing he heard was McCoy's voice. The doctor was telling him he was going to be just fine, and the funny thing was that Pike actually believed him.

Upon his drug-induced reflection, Leonard McCoy, Pike thought, was the most unlikely candidate for both Starfleet officer and Jim Kirk's BFF. Wherever Kirk went, McCoy wasn't usually too far behind, bitching and moaning about infant best friends and their reckless behavior. But he was always there, and always willing to stand up for his friend, the consequences be damned. Their bond was strong enough that McCoy was willing to risk his career in Starfleet, his very last option by his own admission, to smuggle Jim aboard the Enterprise. It worked out well, and Pike knew the repercussions, if any, would be light. But the thought of what might happen to McCoy if the end results of his actions had been less than favorable was not a pleasant thought. Silently, Pike was thrilled he wouldn't have to deal with that kind of nuclear level of fallout.

Still, there was another part of him that felt he had no right to judge their insubordination anymore, not after what he'd done. Compared to coughing up Earth's defense codes to a terroristic enemy, sneaking aboard an unauthorized crew member was a drop in the bucket. McCoy's career would be fine, and so would Kirk's. But Pike - he was a command officer, one highly skilled in torture evasion tactics. Never once during his time at the Academy did he so much as crack during SERE training. He knew exactly how to push the physical pain from his mind and focus on survival. But after all his training, all the hours spent learning how to resist, he'd still broken. His weakness still haunted his dreams at night and ravaged his thoughts during the day.

It was, quite simply, the worst day of his life.

Combat units often said that pain was a reminder. Pike always thought the phrase was terribly cheesy and melodramatic to say the least, but as he lay tucked into his pristine white biobed in the nice, relatively safe sickbay of the Federation's flagship, he finally admitted to himself that the saying did hold some validity. Everything about his body hurt, from his toenails to the roots of his hair. His upper body felt like someone was raking him repeatedly over hot coals; his lower body, even with its diminished sensation, felt like a thousand tiny pins were pricking him from the inside out. However, the agony he felt was a reminder that he was alive when so many others weren't. It told him he screwed up, and it led him to believe that he left with business unfinished on the _Narada_. But most of all, it made him believe that he was culpable for it all.

As the captain of the ship, Pike craved knowledge. But time and time again, he found himself running into a rather obstreperous obstacle. McCoy, the staunch bastard that he was, would not give Pike access to any of the news reports or Federation feeds being sent to the ship. He'd even gone so far as to exercise his newly acquired right as CMO to lock the captain out of his own ship. The resulting argument would probably be water cooler gossip amongst the crew for ages afterwards. Chris was sure the bridge, several decks up and a few sections forward, heard him and McCoy yelling at one another. Leonard claimed it was for his own good, but Pike did not take kindly to being treated like a child. It was an insult to not only his rank, but to his intelligence as well. He'd screamed himself hoarse to the stony-faced CMO until his voice cracked and his throat hurt. Pike's sustained decibel level decreased exponentially as his battered body fought the urge for rest, but the captain soldiered on, finally passing out, exhausted, in the middle of sentence. Not only was it embarrassing, it was downright infuriating.

When he woke up, Pike quickly realized three things: one, he needed to listen to his body more, two: Leonard McCoy was still an asshole, and three, even if the doctor was an outspoken irritating man, he did really care about his patients. But deep down, Chris knew McCoy didn't understand. He wasn't looking for access to the official reports out of some misguided need to play control freak. He couldn't hold the skepticism against the doctor, but he couldn't exactly come out and explain the real reasons to the man, either.

Pike knew there were exactly two stations and a small number of undermanned and outgunned Federation vessels between Vulcan and Earth. He prayed, while Nero held him captive, that Uhura was able to get some sort of message through to command so the stations and ships had at least some sort of fighting chance. Not even the best, most detailed warning would have truly made it a fair fight, but Chris rightfully assumed the stations' occupants would rather go down fighting. Taking two to the proverbial chest instead of being stabbed silently in the back was not only honorable, but the way he knew they'd want it to be.

He sighed. The captain had tried his hardest to weasel any kind of information out of sickbay's staff, but McCoy must have beaten him to it. Every person was mum on the subject when Chris brought it up, gently beating around the topic until they found an excuse to leave. Even Jim, ever enthusiastic, transparent Jim, clamped his mouth closed and quickly changed the topic when Chris broached it. Pike remembered thinking glumly that McCoy must have issued one hell of a gag order to successfully silence the bouncing ball of nervous energy that was James T. Kirk. Knowing McCoy, it probably had something to do with a vague threat to Kirk's nether regions involving something sharp and pointy or highly volatile. It was probably the only one to which the kid would listen.

With a frustrated growl, Pike acknowledged that he at least had the foresight to hand pick an observant senior crew, even if it was biting him the ass on some fronts now. The medical staff thoughtfully stuck him in a secluded corner in the back corner of sickbay, away from the prying eyes and hordes of well-wishers. Only bridge crew and directly related medical staff were allowed back in "his" area, and for that Chris was privately thankful. He wasn't sure he could take any more pitying eyes or too cheerful, starstruck ensigns. Initially, Pike resented the fact so many of his crew felt sorry for him, but he realized in the end that he deserved it. And if he never walked again, he probably deserved that, too.

But still, he was growing restless. Without his work, without his captaincy, what was he? Chris defined himself so much by his rank, title and his job that it was next to impossible to turn off the leader portion of his brain. He'd made way too many sacrifices to count and worked far harder than any of his peers in order to make captain at such a young age. McCoy's expectations that the captain would quietly acquiesce to the doctor's orders while his crew did all the work were downright asinine. Pike was a commander just like McCoy was a doctor. He wanted to be up and around, helping and supervising his people as he should. Instead, he was stuck in a biobed with more tubes and wires sticking out of his body than he thought should be legally allowed. Chris simply felt that in lieu of physical help, he should at least be able to offer some sort of tactical advice or comforting words to his rather green crew.

McCoy, on the other hand, was having none of it.

He tried a few of the games he could play with his clumsy hands on a PADD, but it only succeeded in aggravating his levels of frustration. He tried reading, but he didn't have the attention span for that, either. Finally, he'd come up with one last option. To pass the time, Pike started eavesdropping on his staffs' conversations instead. He managed to perfect the art of appearing as if he was asleep when he was really wide awake, and Chris used his new found skill to his every advantage. The first thing he noted was how great a place the medical ward was to pick up the latest ship's scuttlebutt. The second thing he realized was that, in sickbay, there was just one person's opinion that really mattered.

He knew McCoy was doing his best as the sole surviving M.D., but Pike also knew there was only so much any captain could rightfully ask of his CMO. Brilliant surgeon notwithstanding, the man was still technically a cadet. Though Leonard was far more experienced than quite a few of the other Starfleet doctors, he was still supposed to have years to learn from an old salt how to run a sickbay out in the black with no backup. Instead, he'd been literally indoctrinated by fire, and passed with flying colors. Pike knew it wasn't fair and it wasn't right, but that was life.

It was when a disheveled and obviously exhausted McCoy literally dropped into the chair next to his bed in the wee hours of the morning that Pike had his epiphany: he really did undervalue his medical teams. The stream of patients seemed nearly endless; even though the ship was safely limping her way back home, the medical emergencies never stopped flowing in. Nurses and doctors couldn't just cordon off a dangerous area, shepherd out the troops and tell them to get some rest so they'd be fresh to tackle that big, unnamed task in the morning. There was no way to tell an engineer whose femoral artery had just been nicked to wait until a few hours because the medical staff was too tired, worn out and understaffed to deal with it at that very moment. They solved each crisis individually with little fanfare and then moved quietly on to the next.

Pike watched McCoy from the corner of his eye. Admittedly, the young man was still much of an enigma to him. Kirk was an easy enough read; what he saw was what he got. Couple that with the personality traits he shared with the Jim, and it was simpler to predict reactions. But McCoy was another matter entirely. He knew Leonard was passionate for both his job and for the people he regarded as friends, but anything beyond that Pike didn't know. Hell, he didn't even know if McCoy _had_ friends other than Jim. For a man who, in Pike's mind, was the front runner to officially replace Dr. Puri as the Enterprise's CMO once the ship made it back planetside, that unknown was a bit of a disconcerting notion.

From the moment he recruited McCoy, Chris felt that the younger man only showed what he wanted others to see. Pike had a hunch that there was a lot more to him than just growly, snarky comments and the most impressive eyebrow raise Starfleet had ever seen, but he knew it was unlikely McCoy would let him that close. On the flip side, Pike also knew that stress tended to loosen the tongues of even the most introverted people, and he banked that McCoy was no exception. As the ship's captain, it was Chris' job to look after the welfare of his crew. Just because he was flat on his back did not automatically equate to an inability to observe. Or, that was how he justified the small intrusion to himself. Chris settled in, did his level best to appear as if he was sleeping, and hoped McCoy was tired enough to buy the act.

In the dark of gamma shift in sickbay, McCoy reached up and flipped on the small bedside lamp. He grabbed the PADD from the chart holder mounted near the head of the biobed. He read it over, scrolling through his own notes while sipping from a coffee mug that looked like it was big enough to hold the entire pot. Through the small slit he was able to make of his left eye, Pike noted the sleepless black rings encompassing McCoy's eyes, and the collection of stubble on his haggard face. Leonard set the chart down on his lap and shoved the heels of his hands into his eyes. Hands sinking into his lap, he let out a quiet groan and dropped his chin to his chest.

At first, Chris thought perhaps the younger man had fallen asleep. But after a far too brief moment, McCoy eventually stirred. He shifted in the chair next to Pike's bed in just the right way, his back giving a loud pop of protest. He winced, crossed his legs and picked up the PADD again to read it over.

For a fact, Pike knew nothing had changed since the last time McCoy read his chart. Nothing changed the time before that, or the time before that. It was almost becoming a habit, a way for Chris to tell the time by when McCoy came around. Like clockwork, Leonard would be at Pike's bedside every half hour to check on his progress and to chart any changes. A couple hours previous when rounds were last made, he wondered when the man slept. Looking at him now, it was clear the answer was that he didn't.

Chris paused. Something was not right. Well, there was an endless litany of things that weren't right, but this particular feeling churning in his gut was in regards to McCoy himself. Chris studied Len's face and almost blew his cover when he accidentally furrowed his brows. He caught himself in mid-motion, but it was close enough. A quick glance to McCoy, and Pike relaxed. The doctor was so engrossed into his chart that he probably wouldn't have noticed. Chris studied the exhausted but tense set of Leonard's shoulders and the way the lines on his face pulled even more than normal. Every person on board the ship was stressed near their breaking point, but this was a different expression, one Pike hadn't seen on McCoy yet.

He looked...downright sad. Frustrated and angry were a close second and third, but there was a definitive sadness to Leonard's eyes. It was one Chris had never seen before, and it was chilling, to say the least.

The PADD in McCoy's hands, the one that contained Pike's chart, beeped a couple of times when the doctor signed off on it. He tossed it back in the holder on the biobed and stood. Running a rough hand through his hair, McCoy took one long glance back at Pike's silent form, sighed deeply, and exited the room.

Certainly, that reaction was odd. Alone again, Pike shifted in his bed, trying in vain to keep the pillow from slipping farther down his back. He lifted his head off the second pillow marginally and peeked out around the partially closed curtain surrounding his bed. He was pondering the logistics of a prison break from sickbay when a loud crash literally startled him out of his thoughts. A second later, Dr. McCoy's unmistakable tenor boomed from the other end of facility.

Though Pike only caught half the conversation, there was no mistaking the doctor's harsh, angry tone. A stuttering female voice squeaked out several apologies while McCoy kept yelling. Quick footsteps made their way past his area and Chris heard a stern female inflection enter the fray. Pike listened; it sounded like someone was crying. The third woman was alternately trying to calm the first person while telling the doctor in no uncertain terms to get his ass clear of sickbay. Leonard finished off the litany of sound effects with a loud curse and a growl. Pike saw the flash of green scrubs and dark hair pass by the opening of the curtain. When he heard the hiss of doors opening and closing, he let out the breath he was unconsciously holding.

The stunned silence that had engulfed sickbay began to lift as the medical staff's skeleton crew began to register McCoy's exit. Finally, Pike caught a glimpse of the two women he suspected to be two thirds of the players in sickbay's most recent fireworks. Pike's personal favorite nurse, Christine Chapel, was leading a young engineering ensign to a chair opposite Pike's privacy curtain. Chris nearly did a double take. The girl was barely old enough to be out of high school, and Pike idly wondered if Starfleet now did their recruiting at a daycare. Shaking his thoughts, Pike watched as Christine offered her charge a tissue and knelt down on the floor next to the chair.

He couldn't fully hear what was being exchanged, but he didn't really need to, either. Pike knew McCoy's nurse was the caring hand the doctor himself never quite mastered. Chris craned his neck up and to the right as much as he dared and tried to listen in on the conversation taking place. The ensign, a crying and sniffling mess of dark hair and pale skin, sat on a stool opposite the Enterprise's head nurse. Christine waited with as much patience as a woman who was probably running on just as little rest as the doctor she supported could manage while the young girl calmed herself enough to speak. Wordlessly, she passed over another tissue in time for Pike to hear the girl hiccup out her name and then immediately drop into a record setting blabber on the unfairness of the universe.

Chris, this time, actually did roll his eyes in exasperation, and though he couldn't see Chapel's face, he was sure she just executed the same maneuver. He concentrated on slowing his breathing enough so he could pick up their conversation. Pike's eyebrows descended in the way they did when he was concentrating or thinking, forming small ridges in between his eyes. He heard Christine softly but firmly stop the girl's useless filibuster and lay out nothing but the facts. With a derisive snort, Chris realized that he was finally getting his wish. Someone was coughing up information on the ship's status. Well, hallelujah.

Christine calmly explained to Ensign Gabriella Hartsford that McCoy was the only doctor left on board the ship, and not only was he caring for the injured Starfleet personnel, he was in charge of the well being of the literal handful of remaining Vulcans who survived the planet's implosion. Chapel challenged Gabriella to look around at the damage sprinkled liberally though sickbay, and then reminded the young girl that McCoy was missing staff, supplies and a place to put it all when he was done. Pike caught a sarcastic, "No pressure," from Chapel as she made that fact clear. A light laugh escaped the Enterprise captain. She clearly had been spending too much time around her boss if she was able to perfectly mimic his inflection and tone.

But the stark reality came rushing back when Christine told Gabriella that McCoy's attitude was pricklier than normal because of some recent bad luck in sickbay. The nurse didn't go into specifics, but Pike was able to piece two and two together. He overheard two of the orderlies talking earlier about the loss of Lieutenant Andrea Fehn, who was, by all accounts, out of the woods. She survived the explosion, the hairy transport to sickbay and a fly-by-wire surgery, only to succumb to anaphylaxis from a post op antibiotic, of all things. Coupled with the loss of as much as half of their supplies that were blown to smithereens the same time the ship lost Dr. Puri, there was nothing McCoy could do but sit back and watch. Pike knew asking the doctor to do nothing during the middle of a medical emergency was akin to him sitting on his ass during a crisis, uselessly twiddling his thumbs.

Thankfully, Hartsford seemed satisfied with Christine's firm but brief explanation of Surviving McCoy's Moods 101. Pike's hearing, strangely the only thing that hadn't been affected after his capture by Nero, picked up that Gabriella understood McCoy was human and could only do so much, and that she was willing to give him a break on the grounds of extreme stress. Satisfied, she and Christine stood and stiffly embraced. Hartsford headed back to the heat conduit she was working on before McCoy's rampage interrupted her while Chapel set her game face and strode straight out sickbay. She clearly had other things on her mind, and Pike didn't need his advanced tactics degree to correctly deduce that she'd be making a beeline straight for the doctor's hidey hole.

Wherever it was that McCoy went to sulk was not about to stay quiet for long, and he almost wished he could get up out of bed to follow her. Selling tickets to that fight might not be a bad way to provide some much needed entertainment to the crew. Chapel just leap-frogged Kirk on Pike's list of awesome people who could tear McCoy a new one without breaking a sweat. In the back of his mind, he was hoping maybe it'd cheer him up, too.

Chris closed his eyes when he replayed Chapel's words through the running loop in his mind. The numbers were no doubt continuing to mount as the rescue ships plucked the survivors from the remains of the six other Federation ships Nero destroyed. With each day that passed, the bits and pieces of news he was able to glean from passing conversations grew grimmer. The updated KIA and MIA counts continued to tick higher, and Pike knew the upward trend would continue for months. Logically, he knew the six destroyed ships, the ones who never had a chance when they'd dropped out of warp at Vulcan, were not on his hands. But getting his heart to agree with his brain was proving to be an insurmountable task.

How many ships? How many thousands of lives?

Chris wondered how many of them were his fault.

Maybe sleep was a better idea.

* * *

**Next Up** : Pike overhears a confession not meant for his ears, and Christine Chapel lays down the law, both figuratively and literally.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Notes: Thank you to all who have read, commented and enjoyed. It makes me quite happy that you all have liked this fic. I've thoroughly enjoyed my departure from the writing norm. So, without further adieu, here is the second and final part of this story. As always, comments are loved (and always personally returned). Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I checked when I left work this afternoon just to confirm I work for a CPA and not Paramount. Therefore, I cannot own anything in relation to Star Trek and as I make no profit, I'd appreciate that lawyers not dig their little claws into me. Mmkay? Thanks.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

When he was back on his feet, Chris made a mental note to have a long discussion with McCoy about the finer arts of unpredictability. His eventual job as the Enterprise's CMO would be made easier if he could keep his crew guessing. Even after a spectacular fight he'd had with Chapel and Hartsford, the doctor was back at Pike's side almost exactly a half hour later. Really, the man was nearly as reliable as those ancient postal workers Pike heard about in his elementary history class. He'd hoped that perhaps McCoy had used the time to get a few minutes' sleep, but upon his return, Pike noted the lines on the doctor's face were deeper and more pronounced. So much for wishful thinking.

In the chair next to his bed, Pike was convinced the seat was now formed to the shape of McCoy's ass for all the time the doctor spent sitting in it. He often tried to engage the younger man in conversation during the past two days, but Leonard's concentration was routinely elsewhere. He was polite enough for a man with positively no bedside manner and answered all of Chris' questions unflinchingly and to the best of his abilities, but he seemed to use the time at Pike's bedside as an escape. The captain wasn't quite sure if he should take it as a compliment or indeed as an insult. But as he noted before, Pike welcomed the silent bedside visits if it meant McCoy got off his feet for a few minutes.

When the doctor returned, the all-encompassing tension was plainly back in Leonard's frame. Whatever he did in the half hour he was gone from sickbay did little to mitigate the steaming anger that seemed to be radiating off him waves. It surrounded his entire being, like he was a wound up rubber band waiting to snap. But deeper still, Chris knew the expressions of desperation and defeat all too well from McCoy. He'd seen it when he'd recruited the man and he was seeing it again now. But there was a difference this time. When he stepped off the shuttle in San Francisco, the doctor broadcasted a wide net of self-loathing and lack of self-worth. Now, Pike got the vibe of more anger and bitterness, but without direction.

He'd never seen the younger man quite so down, but it wasn't as if Pike couldn't blame him. As much as Leonard tried to project a front of aloofness, Chris knew that McCoy was about as empathetic as they came. And hearing what he'd heard from Chapel earlier about the loss of Lieutenant Fehn, he also knew the doctor would take the loss hard. He was too much of a perfectionist, and Pike wished that McCoy would understand, truly understand, that he could not and would not save everyone, nor would he always have the best means to try. It was a way of life in the black, with no backup and only instinct as a guide. Leonard didn't yet understand that lesson, and it was one Chris knew McCoy might never learn.

The growled, "Fuck!" startled Chris from his thoughts. He cracked one eye open and gave McCoy a visual once over. Though Len's eyes were shaded by the lack of light in sickbay, there was no mistaking the dark fringe of hair that kept flopping over his eyes. McCoy would reach up, push it out of the way, only to have it fall back in his face a few short seconds later. It was an unconscious motion, it seemed. Pike was beginning to wonder if it was actually bordering on a nervous tick.

McCoy had his nose buried in a PADD again, but this time, it wasn't Pike's medical chart. The doctor pulled the device from his pocket and read it over, grumbling unintelligibly to himself. Chris wondered what he was doing until Leonard reached over and grabbed Chris' chart from its holster next to the bed. He nearly rolled his eyes. Of course the doctor would be working on something for him. It was what he did every waking minute he wasn't attending to a patient. Eyes darting rapidly back and forth, Pike concluded that McCoy had been transcribing data. God forbid he'd do something foolish like, say, sleep.

Internally, Chris sighed. Ever since he dragged the captain back to the sickbay of the Enterprise, it appeared that McCoy made it his personal mission to restore every bit of his body back to normal. He'd made that foolish promise right before Chapel put him under, and it was one thing that stuck in Pike's mind. He had no doubt McCoy took that promise seriously and probably personally. Was he doing it for Jim, to save Kirk's mentor and father figure? There had to be some other reason why one man would push himself beyond any kind of rational physical boundary to save another. Pike knew McCoy sure as hell wasn't doing it for the good of the Federation. In fact, they'd be lucky to convince him to stay in Starfleet, the offer of the CMO's position on the fleet's flagship notwithstanding.

Deep down, Pike knew McCoy wasn't doing all the extra work out of a misguided sense of loyalty to Jim. And it wasn't pity, either. Chris didn't think Leonard had the mental makeup to pity him. But if it wasn't loyalty, and it wasn't pity, Chris was at a loss to figure out what exactly was driving Leonard forward. He knew there was a reason, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Pike was weighing the pros and cons of opening his eyes to talk to McCoy when he felt something land near his chest. He heard the squeak of the chair moving, which was followed directly by the soft, distinct patter of Leonard's footsteps.

Pacing was a new outlet of energy, and Pike reluctantly added the motion to the list of McCoy's Nervous Habits. Leonard straightened his tunic again and brushed a non-existent piece of lint from his sleeve. He turned back toward Pike, but didn't move any closer. The doctor crossed his arms over his chest and glared, the dim gamma shift lighting of sickbay shadowing his face but catching the gleam in his eyes just right. The intenseness the captain saw there made him shudder imperceptibly. Leonard fixated his gaze on Pike's prone form, holding it for a long few seconds while he silently seethed. He shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face, shifting on one foot. It looked like he was about to open his mouth to speak, but something inside McCoy seemed to snap and the raging inferno in Len's eyes faded down to resemble the bright glow of smoldering embers. Chris expected McCoy to turn and wordlessly walk out as he'd done before, but instead, he was genuinely surprised to hear the man's voice.

"You idiots do this to me on purpose, you know? Go off to play hero, and then come back here ten different kinds of broken with the expectation that I can wave a magic wand over your head and fix you right up. Do you know how nice it would be if it were that simple? How much happier I'd be?" McCoy threw up his hands and started pacing again. "You are all nuts. Every single one of you. You and Jim - I swear between the two of you, I will die an early death dealing with that goddamned hero complex you both seem to share with each other."

Pike mentally nodded. He'd seen the glaring similarities of his own personality mirrored in Kirk when he recruited the young man. Vainly, it was part of the attraction he thought Jim offered to Starfleet, since Chris possessed the uncanny ability to actually think outside the box. As he told Jim, it was a quality he thought a good portion of the new Starfleet officers lacked. And McCoy was right; he did have a bit of hero complex. Never would he order a crew member to do something he himself wouldn't do, and Pike would be damned if he would have sent a subordinate in his place to face Nero. It wouldn't have been right, and it wouldn't have been fair. As horrible as Chris felt for what he did, he would have felt a thousand times worse if it had been anyone other than him. It wasn't what a commander did, period.

Undaunted, McCoy toiled on. He laid his fingertips on his hips and leaned forward, balancing on the balls of his feet while he lectured Pike. "Is there some sort of insanity prerequisite for command staff that I missed? Contradiction has to be some type of sport, something you do to try and kill me. I'm nothing but the cleanup crew to you. I'm the same cleanup crew you expect to perform miracles with half a sickbay, no supplies, and a third of the staff I should have." Leonard clenched his jaw and trudged wearily back to 'his' chair situated next to Pike's bedside. He lowered himself ungracefully into it, groaning in relief when his legs no longer had to support his body weight. He glared at Chris, hard and unforgiving. "I'm a doctor, not the Messiah. Nothing more. One day, it'd be nice if you asshats would realize that. _Sir_."

The tiny bit of insubordination aside, the non-solicited confession from the doctor was wholly surprising to Pike. In the past, McCoy was never one who was shy about his many talents as a physician. Simply put, the man was very, very good and just as brilliant in his field as Kirk would be as a captain. He knew it, but at least Chris knew he had the skills to back it up. To hear the solid proof of self-doubt creep into his speech was disheartening, to say the least. Pike concentrated on keeping a neutral, relaxed expression on his face and hoped that McCoy would keep going.

Leonard was clearly having trouble deciding on the appropriate emotion. They flittered through his eyes, coming and going without preamble. Anger leeched to exasperation and bounced back to worry all in a matter of a few milliseconds. But to Pike, it was like it happened in slow motion. Even the words that came from the doctor's mouth seemed sharper, accentuated with the thick southern drawl for which McCoy became known. "I want to be pissed, and I should be furious with you and Jim for pulling this crap again, but I can't because I've got too much other garbage to worry about right now."

McCoy sighed. He ran a hand through his hair again, a motion he'd repeated several times over in the past three days. He took a deep breath and smiled weakly. Chris could see the fight leaving him; the whoosh of tension that flowed from McCoy's body was almost physically palpable. His shoulders sagged and his face fell. The open, unguarded expression of honesty was completely contradictory to the shielded, jaded front the doctor employed so efficiently on a daily basis. Pike was sure it could be attributed to the late hour and the particularly exhausting circumstances of the last three days, but it was still odd to see the real person behind the stony, snarky facade.

McCoy leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, interlacing his fingers. The hard edge to his face was slipping slowly away, leaving a young man who looked impossibly old. "Jim and I were on comm with Starfleet Command after I left. They wanted my causality report from the ship and I was stupid enough to ask them about the rest of the fleet. The counts keep going up, and every time I look at the list of KIA and MIA, I wonder how many people I'm going to see that I know. Knew," he corrected with an angry snort. McCoy dropped his head to his chest and rubbed his face. When he lifted his head again, any pretense of the sassy, snarky doctor was gone. In a quiet, weary voice, Leonard added, "I stopped looking yesterday. Didn't want to see one more name I recognized." He chewed on his lip and clenched his jaw. It was one of his subtle tells he was upset, and it made Pike's brain sit up and take notice.

Chris' heart pole-vaulted into his throat. At that moment, he could have smacked himself for being so selfish. Pike might want the causality lists and the reports of the missing, but he often forgot not everyone shared his zeal for numbers. He also had to force himself to understand that the people running the Enterprise were mostly kids, fresh-faced cadets and not battle hardened veterans. Kirk and company may have handled themselves with the dignity and grace of cool headed, long time Starfleet officers, but when it came right down to it, they were anything but. They'd yet to figure out how to deal with loss, especially loss on the grim, grandiose scale of Nero's path of destruction. Pike concluded that, maybe it wasn't that McCoy was trying to baby him by disallowing access to the ship data feeds. Perhaps Leonard was doing it because he was trying to protect his best friend's mentor. Or maybe, he was trying to protect himself.

Unwittingly, Leonard continued on, voice cracking as he spoke. "I don't know if that makes me weak, selfish, or both. There's a little part of me that says, here I am, safe on the ship, so why am I'm bitching about what's gone on in the past three days?" He shrugged. "I guess I feel like I ain't got a right," Leonard added, his Georgia drawl thick as molasses, but not nearly as sweet.

The urge to blow his cover completely and open his eyes was, admittedly, very strong. He wanted nothing more than to tell McCoy it was okay, that he was allowed to feel fear or sadness or anger. Pike wanted to say that he'd be worried if Leonard felt nothing, and that it was perfectly natural to experience the unpleasant, skin crawling sensation of regret. But he stayed silent, partially because he knew that logically, McCoy knew all of that and more. The man didn't make it through medical school without a few lessons in psychology, so Chris was well aware his lecture would certainly fall on deaf ears. The bigger reason, though, was simply a matter of respect. Pike knew McCoy held his privacy in high regard. He also realized that, from the moment Leonard opened his mouth, he was witnessing a very rare moment of vulnerability for the professionally confident doctor. He felt guilty for it, for intruding on such private introspection, but he couldn't just turn off his brain and think about rainbows and sunshine or some bullshit like that.

Chris often wondered if he'd crossed the lines of propriety with Kirk and McCoy. He was closer to them than any of his past or present subordinates, and when he thought about it, much closer to the pair than any of his peers. Somehow, they'd both grown into family, but Pike was befuddled to figure out just when and how that happened. It certainly wasn't unwelcome, and he'd never lost his objectivity when tearing strips off the two men for their incredibly boneheaded drunken exploits, but he never actually _cared_ so much for anyone else in his life.

Perhaps that was what it felt like to have a family, not that he'd ever figure that out now.

McCoy tilted his head to the side. "I was never cut out to lead. Never really wanted the CMO's job. Still don't now, but I guess I don't have much a choice, do I?" he asked rhetorically, waving one hand around the half-demolished sickbay. "It was take over or let more people die, and I'll be damned if I was going to let that happen here. I thought I had it under control until you showed up."

Chris' brain executed a perfect figurative stutter step as Len's words sunk in. What did McCoy mean by that? Shaking off the cobwebs, Pike ran through the various scenarios in his head at warp speed, wondering just what the doctor was getting at. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait long for the answer to his unasked question.

"I might be a cocky bastard, but I don't know if I can fix you. I've tried everything I can think of," McCoy breathed out with a resigned sigh. He picked up the PADD from its stationary holder again and tapped the screen on. He scrolled through the chart in vain one more time, hoping that he'd catch what he missed. With a frustrated growl, he bit out a terse, "Nothing makes sense any more. I've looked at this over and over again. Checked off everything I needed to do."

Pike mentally willed McCoy to continue when the doctor abruptly stopped, stood and started pacing the room like a caged tiger waiting to pounce.

Leonard started ticking off his task list on his fingers. "I took care of the damage to your spine in surgery, and while it's not complete, it wasn't ineffective. We pumped you full of antibiotics. The levels were checked and rechecked. The toxins have been completely flushed and they weren't in a high enough concentration to sustain your paralysis anyway." Leonard stopped dead in his tracks and tipped his head backwards. With a mighty sigh, the adrenaline rush faded, and McCoy dropped back into the chair again. The frustration in his voice and on his face was painfully clear. "I don't know why your lower body is still frozen. None of the data makes sense, which is why I haven't told you yet. You should be recovering fine. But you're not, because I'm missing something." He cut himself off just before the muted, ' _I'm sorry_ ,' could slip past his lips.

Now that just wouldn't do. In the past three days, Chris had to admit McCoy had done more than just an admirable job under extreme circumstances, so it seemed strange to him that Leonard would be beating himself up now. He'd done damned fine work, if Pike would say so himself. Luck must have been on his side, because Chris fully realized that he would have died on the table had any other surgeon extracted the slug from his body. But McCoy was a perfectionist, and survival wasn't enough. He wouldn't be satisfied with anything less than Pike's full recovery.

Selfishly, a tiny, minute portion of Chris' brain, and more prevalently his ego, was right there with his physician. Pike was always waiting, always looking for that next sign that his body was going to heal and function as if nothing had ever happened. He silently prayed each day for a signal that would tell him some sort of feeling else was coming back. As a lifelong athlete, Pike knew his body well. He set little goals for himself, little timelines he felt were achievable that would invariably lead up to the big target of passing the Starfleet physical and earning back his certification for active duty space flight. He belonged on the bridge of a ship, and like hell he'd allow Nero to steal that from him. He resigned himself to patience and hard work, and he knew he would do whatever it took to recover.

But as Pike lay silently in bed, listening to the best doctor in Starfleet tell him that a chance existed the damage done to his body was irreversible, he realized that it wasn't all about active duty. There were moments of rare epiphany, and Chris was certain that sickbay just lit up like a Christmas tree when the proverbial light bulb went off above his head. He was alive, safe and heading back to Earth. His planet was still right where it was supposed to be, not transformed into a gaseous black hole marked on a stellar chart for avoidance like Vulcan. Most of his crew was intact, and the volatile red matter destroyed. It was mission: accomplished, in the most one-dimensional sense of the phrase.

So then why did it feel so wrong? Pike knew the answer to that, but he forcefully shoved the running loop of self loathing from his mind for just one moment and concentrated on what he had in his life that was good. He ran thought the positives in his head one more time and nearly smiled. McCoy did the best he could, with no doubt that he would continue to work to find a solution to the captain' somewhat useless legs once the ship made spacedock on Earth. It would invariably be a hard road, but it was one Pike was ready to travel. Whatever the outcome, Christopher Pike was nothing if not adaptable, and he knew he'd land on his feet.

Or, whatever ended up being the equivalent of his feet, he thought with an internal sardonic snort.

Pike saw the shields go up on the young doctor's face again, effectively ending the monologue he was having with the captain. McCoy's chair rustled when he pushed it out to stand. But before he could complete the motion, the quiet hiss of a hypospray's release mixed in with the sounds emanating from Pike's biobed readouts. McCoy's eyes widened in recognition as soon as he felt the cold metal of the hypo against the side of his exposed neck. He turned his head in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the idiot who dared sedate him, but the plunger was already depressed. The medication swirled through the doctor's bloodstream, and before he could muster any more protest than an indignant mumble and what sounded auspiciously like ' _Goddammit_ ,' the drugs and exhaustion took hold. McCoy doggedly fought sleep the entire way down, but his weary head eventually landed on the mattress next to Pike's left thigh. He was asleep before his face hit the blanket.

"He's out. You can stop acting now, Captain. I know you're awake."

If the entirety of his body didn't hurt like a sonofabitch, he probably would have laughed. Instead, Chris peeled his sticky eyelids open and followed the small, feminine hand lying gently on McCoy's shoulder up toward the owner's face. Christine Chapel smiled down at him. A knowing smirk graced her lips while the hand not on McCoy's shoulder twirled the spent hypo. Pike blinked owlishly. How the hell did she know he was awake? Her scarily keen observation skills aside, Chris made a mental note to never, ever piss her off if she could get the drop on McCoy like that. It was almost chilling how someone so diminutive could take down a man of Leonard's size without so much as chipping a nail. Pike shifted in his bed and winced when the movement pulled at the sensitive new skin around his surgical incision site. He forced his eyes to meet Christine's, and cleared his throat as if to say, ' _Touché_ ,' to the young nurse. Out loud, he gave a brief, "Nurse Chapel."

"Captain Pike," she replied with sickly sweet amounts of sugar in her voice. She must have seen his thoughts literally marching through his mind because Christine looked both proud and a little embarrassed all at once. When she broke eye contact, Chapel's gaze flicked down Pike's biobed toward her boss, giving the captain a brief respite from being studied so completely. She waved a hand over her shoulder. From behind her slight form, two large security officers stepped up to flank her. "Help me get him up, boys?"

The two men moved into Pike's line of sight, and he suppressed a sigh of relief when he saw cadet Michael "Cupcake" Jones shoulder to shoulder with another cadet he couldn't quite place. But the recognition of one of them meant more familiar faces managed to survive, and that put a tiny sliver of Chris' mind at ease. The two men easily hefted McCoy up and deposited him with surprising gentleness onto the empty biobed adjacent to Pike's own. Chapel murmured a quiet thank you and patted them both on the arms. On their way past, Chris heard Jones reply, "Not a problem, Christine. Kirk's a pain in the ass, but the Doc's okay. Just don't tell the commander I said that about him. Got to keep up the reputation, you know."

Pike gave a quiet harrumph of agreement. He watched with amused eyes as Chapel fiddled with the controls of the bed. Cupcake and his help set McCoy on his back, and it looked like Christine was doing her best to make the doctor more comfortable. She raised the head and foot of the bed and stuck a pillow behind Len's neck. Grabbing a blanket, she threw the thick regulation issue felt covering over McCoy and took a deep breath. Christine stepped sideways to the foot of the bed, unzipped the boots on Len's feet and pulled them both off. She dropped them on the floor, each making a dull 'thud' when it hit the carpet.

Pike snorted audibly. "You're kidding me, right?" he croaked out in jest.

Whirling around, Christine crossed her arms over her chest, returning Pike's raised eyebrow with a passive, neutral expression. "What? You don't honestly expect me to let him sleep in his boots, do you?"

It was annoying enough to have to compress his sentences down to the bare minimum to avoid taxing his abused throat. Not being able to laugh was just insult to injury. Still, the corners of Chris' mouth turned up, but he kept his expression of amusement internal. It still hurt too much to even chuckle. He lifted one hand a few inches off the mattress and put it up in a gesture of surrender. "I know nothing. I'm just the captain."

Christine harrumphed in agreement. Drawing the privacy curtain around the area, Chapel set one hand on her hip, gave an exasperated little sigh and pulled a PADD from her pocket. She tapped a few notes into it and shoved it into the holder fixed to the bed near McCoy's head. Christine ran a tricorder over Len's prone form while she muttered to the unconscious doctor. Pike strained to hear the words, but couldn't make out much more than an accentuated admonishment here or there. One look at Chapel's face told the captain all he needed to know. McCoy's nurse was _pissed_.

Coughing, Pike indicated with his gaze toward the cup of water sitting on the beside table. He'd yet to interject his opinion, and as captain, it was his right to give his thoughts as he found fit. Translation: he wanted to say whatever the hell he felt like saying, when he felt like saying it. Chapel spun around, reached out with one hand and brought the straw to Chris' lips. His parched throat soothed, he rasped out a tired, "Do you yell at him like that to his face?"

Christine snorted, unfazed. "Of course. I do and will, when he wakes up. Contrary to popular belief, Len's bark is really much worse than his bite." Her face softened while she chewed lightly on the end of the stylus in her right hand. Thoughtfully, she added, "In fact, he doesn't bite at all."

"Funny most of my crew doesn't believe that," the captain answered, choking down something that could probably be categorized as a laugh when his mind conjured up the images of the petite, delicate looking, blonde haired lithe nurse dressing down the tall, scowling, broad-shouldered, profane and well muscled doctor. It was a picture Pike would truly pay for, and he made a mental note to perhaps bribe Jim to make it happen.

Chapel exhaled a breath through her nose and pursed her lips. Finished with her readings, she logged the results quickly and set the tricorder and PADD down next to Pike's water. She pulled up another stool to make herself comfortable. Folding her arms on the edge of the bed, Christine leaned down and rested her chin on her crossed wrists. She figured that between the circumstances and the egregiously late hour, some laxness in proper decorum would be acceptable. "You don't know him like I do, Captain. No offense intended."

An hour ago, she would have been right. Now, he wasn't so sure. "You're right, Chapel. Doesn't mean I didn't listen."

Christine cocked a grin at him. She waved a finger at Pike's face. "About that. Thanks for pretending like you were out. He needed it."

"How much did you hear?" Pike asked, narrowing his eyes. He had a sneaking suspicion Chapel was lurking in the shadows for most of it, even though he never saw her or detected her presence. Maybe if this whole career in medicine didn't work out, he could convince her to teach recon at the academy. Damned woman was crafty, and Pike wanted to compare notes.

Ducking her head, Chapel felt the warmth of a blush that tinged the tips of her ears and nose a pale pink. "I was here for most of it, Sir," she replied, choosing to cough up the truth. "I followed him here from the Cap- From Jim's quarters. I think he and Kirk were hammering out a new crew rotation that would actually give people some down time, now that Scotty's relatively sure we're not just going to blow up if we exceed half impulse." Christine's eyes shifted to McCoy. "The idiot gave everyone including Kirk off time, but 'forgot' to pencil in himself. I'm just doing it for him."

Chris rolled his eyes. Typical McCoy. Mentally, Pike added a little come to Jesus on hypocrisy to his list of crap he needed to address with the doctor when he was well enough to kick ass and take names. Pike thought maybe Len's patients would take lectures about proper rest and relaxation more seriously if the man said orders came from took his own advice every once in a while. Processing Chapel's statement, Chris nodded in agreement. "He works too hard. Doesn't think of himself enough."

"I'd say that sums in up quite nicely, Captain. It's an affliction both he and Kirk share, but Jim has Len to watch over him. No one's a better mother hen than this guy right here," Christine said with a light laugh, motioning with a tip of her head to the sleeping form on the biobed behind her.

"Agreed, on both counts. But you seem to cover pretty well for our dear doctor," the captain replied. He waggled his eyebrows in Chapel's direction. Later, he'd blame his blatant flirtatious nature on the drugs. Yes, it was definitely because of the drugs. It would be conduct unbecoming for the ship's commanding officer to be so shamelessly flirting with one of the nurses. At least Christine knew he was harmless.

"It's a tough job, but someone has to do it." Chapel rolled her eyes. "Lord only knows what Len would do if left to his own devices."

' _I don't have to imagine_ ,' Pike thought, suppressing a painful, full body shudder. He knew. Chris was one out of a very small handful of people who'd seen McCoy at his very lowest, and it was not a place he ever wanted to see the doctor revisit. He was honestly shocked Leonard showed up at the shipyard for the shuttle, even drunk as he was. When Pike heard his flight officer arguing with the belligerent man, he made a silent promise to try and tip the scale (minutely, of course) in McCoy's favor. More than a logistical reason existed for Chris assigning Kirk and McCoy as roommates. The captain was hedging his bet that Kirk would keep the doctor from washing out, and he couldn't have been more thrilled when he was proven correct.

Pike cleared his throat, shifted marginally, and answered with a succinct, "I know. Glad it's your job and not mine."

"Oh, come on, Captain Pike. You and I both know that you've practically adopted Kirk and McCoy. They're your own pet projects," she shot back with a light laugh. When Pike's only response was the squeaking hinges of his jaw falling open, Chapel amended, "Not that I think it was an unwise decision. I love both of them like brothers, and at times I want to shoot them, but they're both good men. You chose well, Sir."

"Thank you, I think," Pike replied, his brain still trying to decide if Chapel just complimented him or called him a raging idiot. He got nothing from Christine herself; the young lady had one hell of a poker face. Her expression, face and eyes gave away nothing while she stared straight ahead. Bland as could be and equally frustrating summed it up nicely. Idly, Chris wondered just where she learned that trick, too.

"Sir, permission to speak freely?" Christine asked out of left field. She hesitated to ask him, but she needed to know for sure before she really pushed the boundaries of the powers of her profession.

Chris turned his head and shifted into a position his battered body found more acceptable. It was obvious to him where Chapel was heading with her line of questioning, but he was also cognizant of how uncomfortable it was making her. Pike decided to let her off the hook easy for once, given all she'd done for him in the past few days. "You want to know what I think about his work, don't you?"

This time, Chapel actually had the good grace to blush when Pike so effortlessly flipped the tables of observation. She ducked her head and asked, "How did you know, Sir?"

"It's my legs that were injured, Chapel, not my brain. That works just fine, something your boss doesn't seem to remember," Pike replied with a poorly concealed grimace. "And to answer your question, I don't blame him, even if he can't fix…this," the captain added with a weak gesture of his right hand. He looked her in the eye and added, "I wouldn't be happy, but I never could believe that it was his fault."

Twiddling the end of the sheet between her thumb and pointer finger of her right hand, Chapel said quietly, "You know it would go a long way if you told him that." Christine swallowed hard, finally turning her head to lock gazes with one of the two Enterprise captains.

"What do you mean?" Pike replied, genuinely confused.

Chapel let out another long sigh and stole a glance over her shoulder. McCoy slumbered peacefully, completely unaware he was the topic of the conversation taking place between head nurse and captain. Christine turned back to Pike and placed her hands on the bedrails. "I think you know what I mean sir, but I'll clarify for you. He's not as tough as he looks or acts, Captain, and I think you realize that now. He takes his job very personally. Really, he takes it too personally, if you ask me. It's not good for him and I can see it's going to get him in trouble one day, but being a doctor is what he is. It's what he's good at."

"No, it's his life," Pike interjected. "Literally."

He got it in one. Christine knew there was a reason Pike was the captain of the ship, and a damned good one at that. She also knew there was reason she liked him. She nodded, and the words began spilling from her mouth in a frantic tumble. "I normally would never ask that of a patient or of a superior officer, and with you being both, it's not easy, sir. I just think that it would really-"

Pike laughed lightly. He lifted one hand marginally from the mattress. The movement caught Chapel's eye, putting a sufficient halt to the geyser of unintelligent sentence her brain had yet to filter through. "Relax, Christine. I'll mention it to him. I think I owe it to him anyway," Pike replied sincerely.

"And you won't mention anything you just heard here?"

"Nope. My lips are sealed."

Christine nodded, satisfied that McCoy's need for privacy would remain intact. She hesitated above his head, hands nervous and fidgeting. Twisting in her chair, Chapel toyed with a loose piece of string on Pike's blanket. Quietly, she said without warning, "You know it's not your fault, Captain. I just wanted to tell you that. I can't speak for every single soul on this ship, but I know that there are a lot more people that aren't mad at your than there are folks who are. Don't beat yourself up too much, okay? Personally, I'm just happy you're alive."

Chris swallowed down the sudden onslaught of emotions that came flooding back to the forefront of his brain with Chapel's simplistic statement. He blinked hard a couple of times to push back the tears that were forming behind his eyes, because above all, he would not let Christine see him cry. Exhaling, he swallowed hard. He nodded his head and looked Chapel in the eye. "I know it's not. And maybe one day I'll believe it," he added, tilting his head away from the nurse's view.

Christine reached out and grabbed Chris' much larger hand with her two smaller ones. She gave it a gentle squeeze and said, simply, "You will. In time, sir. You will." The pair settled into a comfortable silence that neither seemed to mind. Christine busied herself by making a couple notations in the captain's chart from the readouts on the screen. She watched Chris rapidly blink his eyes as if he were trying to clear them. ' _Time for bed_ ,' she thought. Cocking her head to the side, she asked, "Can I get you anything?"

"No, I'm good. I like my corner. Nice of you guys to put me back her. It's quiet." Pike replied as he stifled a yawn. It was good to talk to someone for a change who wasn't treating him like a celebrity, or a glass sculpture ready to break. But as much as he'd love to continue the conversation with Christine, he was fighting a losing battle against rest. His battered body was demanding some real sleep.

The professional side of the nurse's brain seemed to register Pike's non-verbal clues, and she stood to take her leave. "I'll let you get some rest, then. It's 0330. It should be quiet around here for another few hours. You should try and get some actual sleep, now that Tweedledee over here won't be dropping in to check on you every half hour."

"Yes, Ma'am, I'll do my best," Pike replied as if he were talking to an admiral or his grandmother's friends. "Oh, and Chapel?"

"Yes, Captain?" she asked, fixing the blankets around his torso and checking Pike's bio readouts for a final time.

"When this is done and we're back planetside, you and I have to talk."

Deadpanned, Christine didn't miss a beat. "I don't date officers, especially not ones who've been my patients. Sorry, Sir. Nothing against you, but I've gotten my fill of your anatomy for a good, long while."

Pike lifted his head fractionally off the pillow. He let his voice dip a half octave and asked, "Are you saying you don't approve?"

"Oh, I approve all right. Just for someone else. Goodnight, Captain Pike," Chapel said, sliding effortlessly from Chris' her chair and moving toward the privacy curtain that shielded the captain from the majority of the medical area. Christine threw him a little wave, lifted an eyebrow and practically strutted through sickbay, happy she could lighten the mood a bit with Captain Pike upon her exit.

Chris settled back into his pillows and folded his hands over his chest. He smiled so widely he thought his face might break in half from the exertion of force. Letting a small chuckle float from his chest, Pike exhaled deeply. He felt his entire body relaxing, the lightness of Christine's attitude removing a bit of the weight created by stress, grief and shame that was previously residing on his chest. It certainly didn't remove all of the feelings of remorse built up in his chest, but it started chipping away at the protective coating the negative emotions seemed to have erected as a force field of shelter. He'd likely wake up with his duties on his mind, he still would blame himself for not doing enough, and he would still be pissed at McCoy for the litany of restrictions placed on him by the physician, but he was starting to realize that he wasn't completely alone. With the thought on his mind, Pike closed his eyes and drifted toward sleep.

For the first time in three days, he didn't dream.

**-FIN-**


End file.
